CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD

CHAPTER 1

Ever since I was 4 years old it felt like I have lived in a different universe from everyone else in the world. The only escape into reality was when my little brother and I were left at our dad's friend's house. If we were lucky enough to be left with an adult while Dad was gone on long hunting trips it was usually with Bobby or Pastor Jim.

The moment I realized that they understood the life we lived, well, that was the first time I noticed other people lived in the same alternate universe that we did.

My mom, my Angel, the light of my life, was killed in a house fire. I didn't understand it all at first. All I knew was that the fire had started in my baby brother's room and that my Dad tried to save them. The fire woke me up and I ran in to see what was happening. My dad handed me my baby brother and told me to run out of the house with him. I was so scared I didn't even question his demand I just took him and ran as fast as I could.

My mom didn't make it out of the fire. I remember all the flashing lights and loud sirens added to the constant questions from all the police officers had me so scared. My heart was so broken over losing my mom that I couldn't even cry that night. Baby Sammy was only 6 months old so he doesn't remember any of it. He doesn't remember that he was scared too. I know he was because I can still hear his screams and cries from that night. He's the lucky one, sometimes I envy him because he doesn't have to remember that night. The night that changed our lives forever.

I loved my little family. My mom, dad and I had so much fun. I can faintly remember all the laughter we had together. I was so excited when they brought my little brother home for the first time. It seemed like he lived inside my mom's tummy forever before he was finally home! That first night I fell asleep laying on the floor next to his crib. I loved him so much and didn't want to leave his side. I was his big brother and I had to make sure he was safe and all his needs were taken care of.

I guess mom and dad knew this too because they didn't put me in my bed that night. When I woke up in the morning I was still lying beside his crib but someone put a pillow under my head and covered me with my blankie. Yup, I knew I was still loved by them even with a new baby around. As the first few nights passed they let me fall asleep on the floor beside Sammy but I always woke in my own bed. After a while they stopped letting me fall asleep next to him.

I've always wondered if I was sleeping beside his crib that night if I could have saved Sammy and Mom, both. I'm pretty sure I could have. I should have insisted that I continued to fall asleep in his room, then my mom would still be with us. I've always felt responsible for her death. But, at least I could take care of Sammy and get him out of the house. I vowed that night to never let him out of my sight again, I would always make sure he was safe and taken care of.

We moved after that night but never stayed in one place too long. Sometimes we didn't even have a home to stay in. sometimes we would stay in the car for days on end or stay in some run-down motel room, always the cheapest Dad could find. I remember one time we stayed in someone else's home. Dad said they were on vacation, I've never understood what was so special about leaving your home to go stay in a motel room, but as long as we had a place to stay while they were gone, it didn't matter if I understood it or not.

It wasn't until I was older that I realized we really didn't have permission to stay there. Once I found that out, it made more sense why we always had to use the back door and stay inside, and why dad would get so mad if we got too loud. But that house was the best place we ever stayed. It was full of all the food we could possibly want. There was even more than one bathroom so I didn't have to wait to take a shower or use the toilet. The water was still hot even after dad took a shower and I gave Sammy his bath.

Usually, Dad always took his shower first, followed by me giving Sammy his bath, then I cleaned myself last and the water was always cold by then, but not in this house, it was the greatest place I had ever been since leaving our family home. The owners must have had kids because this house even had toys for Sammy to play with.

I didn't tell dad, but I packed away a couple toys for Sammy when we had to leave. He had always had toys that I made for him or found in a dumpster. But, these toys were so clean and weren't broken, plus the ones that made noises actually worked. Dad found out later about the toys and punished me for it, but it was worth it for Sammy.

Dad stayed gone a lot hunting the yellow eyed demon that he said killed our mom. He taught me how to shoot different types of guns and how to use a knife properly. He said it was for protection while he was gone, so I could keep Sammy safe. I always liked it when Dad was away and it was just me and Sammy, but I also missed him sometimes when he stayed gone too long.

Sammy didn't know anything about the demon, or where dad went when he was away. I begged Dad not to tell him! He didn't even remember Mom and I wanted him to stay little and enjoy life like I did when I was his age. I just secretly wished Mom was there to help me with him. Dad never taught me how to change a diaper or make a bottle. I had to figure it out on my own. I'm just glad I was always willing to help Mom when she did it so I wasn't completely lost on how to take care of a baby.

Sometimes, when we lived in the car, Dad would take us on hunts with him. I always hated going on hunts when I was little. Not because I was scared but because I was worried about baby Sammy. Dad would make me so mad when he would put tape over Sammy's mouth so he couldn't cry, he always followed that up by putting tape over his arms and legs attached to his car seat so he couldn't get out or make any movements to draw attention to himself. He said it was for his own good, I knew it was, but it still made me so mad I could feel my blood boil.

After taping Sammy down, he would always hand me a gun and make me hunt with him. It was hard for me to concentrate on the hunt back then because I would always worry about Sammy being alone and scared. When we finished the hunt, I would make sure to hold him extra tight and assure him everything was okay as he laid on my chest soaking my shirt with his tears. After a while I think he got used to it because he stopped crying so much after we got back from a hunt.

We were staying in some run-down motel room the night Sammy walked for the first time. I was so proud of him! I started clapping and cheering for him! He was growing up so fast I couldn't believe it. I guess I got too loud. Dad had just gotten back from a 2-day hunt. He didn't have any money to leave us while he was gone so I went to the dumpster at the nearby diner after they closed and got me and Sammy some food to eat until dad returned.

When he returned he smelled like booze and could barely even walk straight. When he stumbled through the door I jumped up and helped him to his bed, just the way I was trained. He had a beer in his hand that he spilled all over me but I didn't care, I was used to that too. I Removed his dirty, bloody shirt, then his boots I finished by sliding his pants off. I was only 5 at the time but I had learned enough already that I checked him over quick for any injuries. Thankfully the blood seemed to come from whatever creature he killed while he was away.

He passed out and I went back to take care of Sammy. When he stood up and walked all by himself I thought to myself how much I wished Mom could have been there to see him. She would have been proud of him too. That thought only lasted a minute, the next thing I knew I was being grabbed by my hair and pulled up from my seated position. I didn't even have time to process what was happening before I felt my dad's fist hit the left side of my face. His fist came flying at me so fast and hard it ripped my hair out of his hand and launched me on the bed behind me. It took a minute for the pain to catch up. By the time the pain hit I felt another punch, only this time to my ribs, then another to my stomach.

"Don't you cry boy! You knew I was sleeping, how dare you make so much noise you woke me up! Do you have any idea what I've been through the past couple days? You had better shut your mouth or there will be more where that comes from! And wipe those damn eyes of yours! No boy of mine is going to cry!" my dad shouted.

I hadn't even noticed my eyes had filled with unshed tears from the fear and pain. "Yes sir" I replied quickly as I jumped off the bed to wipe my face.

When I had finished splashing my face with water and drying it off Dad was already back asleep. Sammy was sitting on the floor and had gone back to playing after the yelling was over.

"h'gry" Sammy said looking up at me from his toys with sad little eyes.

Honestly, I was hungry too. It had been since dinner last night since I had eaten anything. I made sure what little food I had gotten was left for Sammy to eat through the day. I knew not to wake Dad again but I was sure he had money, he at least had enough to buy the booze he was drinking. I also knew I couldn't leave Sammy alone with him for long in fear that he might cry and wake him up.

"All right Sammy, I'm going to go get us some food, but you have to stay here and be very quiet, okay?"

Sammy nodded his little head "k, Dean".

I sat Sammy between the bed and the wall with his toys where he would be safe. "Stay right here and stay quiet" I instructed him as I hurried out of the room to find him some food.

I wasn't gone but just a couple minutes. I had managed to sneak in the dumpster right after the busy dinner rush. I found a bowl of half eaten mashed potatoes and some left-over chicken strips for Sam. I found a couple half eaten cheeseburgers and some fries for myself. I thought about getting some food for Dad but I needed to hurry and get back to Sammy, and I was afraid someone might see the purple bruise forming on my face, or smell the beer Dad had spilled on me.

I hurried back to the room and quietly snuck back in. I was relieved to see Dad was still sleeping and Sammy was in the same place I left him. I sat myself between the bed and wall with Sam and fed him his food. After he was finished I hurried and gobbled my food down. After playing with my baby brother a little longer I gave him his bath, fresh diaper and clean clothes, then tucked him in bed.

"Good night buddy" I said as I kissed him on his forehead.

"N't Dean" Sammy said in the middle of a long yawn.

Before I knew it, he was sound asleep. I picked up his toys and dirty clothes, cleaning the room as best as possible. Threw the food wrappers in the trash and took a shower myself then fell asleep beside Sam.

This was pretty much the way my life went for the next 4 years. In and out of crappy motel rooms or apartments, living off the streets and out of the car. At least the car was a nice one and I didn't mind being seen in it. Dad even taught me how to drive it in case I needed to drive us out of a bad situation.

Sammy had just turned 5 and wouldn't stop nagging us about going to school. He would see those big yellow school busses and his eyes would just light up! He always was a fast learner. He remembered everything he ever saw or heard. Which made it difficult to talk about hunts at times. But we managed to keep Sammy's innocence and not let him hear us when we talked about them.

Dad allowed Sammy to go to school. He said it would give him something to do during the day instead of sitting around a motel room or getting in his way. I didn't have any interest in going, but I did, so I could keep an eye on my little brother. You never know what monster may be disguised as a human. I hated school and didn't care about learning anything. I mean who needs to know the history or wars when you are fighting your own war with the monsters in the night?

But Sammy, Sammy loved learning everything he could. He got picked on a lot because he didn't have a mom and no one ever met his dad, also his clothes weren't the best. They were the best we had for him but not some name brand preppy clothes like others in his class. I hated to see him sad like that. I started picking up every piece of change I found, you wouldn't believe how many people leave pennies laying on the ground. I saved them all and every day after school I would take Sammy to get his favorite ice cream, counting pennies and nickels at the counter top, before heading back to the darkness of our lives.

Of course, I never got any, told Sam I didn't like ice cream, because I didn't have enough money for both of us. Those were some of the best memories I have, just me and Sammy sitting at the soda fountain, him eating ice cream and jabbering about his day and me just sitting and listening and watching his smiles and excitement for life. Those moments never seemed to last long enough.

Once we got back to the place we were staying for the night I would secretly wish we were back at school. These dingy places we stayed always seemed so dark and depressing. And I was always afraid of what mood Dad might be in when he returned from a hunt or an evening out on the town.

This was about the same time Dad started leaving us with other people. He said it was so Sammy could go to school and learn something. He said it was important for Sammy to be smart. He would always make the comment that someone in the family needed to be smart and it sure as hell wasn't me or him. I pretended when he said those things it didn't bother me but really it did.

I knew I wasn't the smartest, but dad would always make it sound like there was no one dumber than me. I already felt like I couldn't do anything right. I tried but I always seemed to mess everything up. My first hunt with Dad I almost got him killed. We were hunting a vamp and I turned my head when a heard a noise and the vamp jumped on Dad. I froze for just a minute before cutting off its head but Dad almost got bit. At first, I wasn't completely sure he hadn't. We didn't even get out of the woods that day before dad laid into me. I'm sure I had a couple broken ribs from his fists. But I deserved every punch I got.

"You're such a loser!" dad screamed as he threw a punch, "you can't ever seem to do anything right! You deserve every bad thing that happens to you in your life. Why can't you be more like your brother? He's smart and a damn good kid! You're just a fuckin' waste of air!" he screamed as punch after punch came down on my little body.

Deep down I told myself that Sammy was smart and good because of the way that I raised him, me, not Dad, ME. But I never really believed it because that would mean I would have to believe I could do something right, and I don't.